


The Sweet Purity of Apples

by keelywolfe



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-17
Updated: 2002-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 20:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21464119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: It was a lazy day in the Shire, the kind that only come in the summertime when it’s too hot to do much of anything useful.
Relationships: Merry Brandybuck/Pippin Took
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Old story getting added to AO3.

* * *

It was a lazy day in the Shire, the kind that only come in the summertime when it’s too hot to do much of anything useful, too early to begin harvesting any of the slowly ripening crops and much too lovely a day to be spent inside. Most of the hobbit children were laughing and playing out in the fields while their parents watched indulgently from the cool shade.

Further up the hillside, and away from all the ruckus, Merry Brandybuck was laying almost hidden amongst the nodding grasses and wildflowers, nearly drowsing from the warmth of the Sun as he sketched idly on a scrap of parchment with a piece of charcoal.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like his family, far from it, but sometimes he simply wanted a little quiet and he’d be more likely to find an Elf hiding beneath his bed than to find silence in Brandy Hall.

He’d thought that today he might actually have found a place to hide safely for a time, but the sound of someone wading through the sea of grasses towards him warned him that his privacy was about to be invaded.

A pair of feet appeared at his elbow, and Merry raised his eyes warily to see his younger cousin Pippin standing over him, crunching rather noisily on an apple.

Merry sighed in exasperation. He was actually quite fond of Pippin, at least in comparison to most of his other cousins, but Pip didn’t seem able to understand why anyone might wish to spend a bit of time alone. Merry suspected that if Pip would spend more time in Brandy Hall he would understand the notion right quickly.

Deciding that perhaps if he ignored the younger Hobbit, he might wander off to find someone friendlier to spend the day with, Merry refocused his attention on his drawing.

Pippin regarded him silently for a long moment but Merry should have known to wouldn’t last. “What are you doing?” Pippin asked finally, catching a droplet of juice trailing down his arm with the tip of his tongue.

“If you have to ask, I don’t see why I should tell you,” Merry replied coolly, refusing to look up.

“What I mean is, what is that supposed to be?” Pippin clarified, trying to speak around a mouthful of fruit and Merry grimaced in disgust.

“I’m drawing the millhouse right there.” Merry gestured towards it with his free hand. “What did you think it was?”

“If I could have told, I wouldn’t have asked,” Pippin said easily, dancing nimbly away from the slap Merry had aimed at his leg before flopping down next to him. He squinted at the millhouse and then at the paper, chewing thoughtfully.

Merry managed to wait through a few moments of silence before he finally gave in. “What do you think?” he asked heavily, certain he’d regret asking.

“I think you’re ruining a perfectly good piece of parchment.” Merry did hit him that time, and Pippin lost his grip on the apple. He picked it back up by the stem and gazed mournfully at the dirt-encrusted flesh before tossing it aside, sighing, “Honestly, Merry, someone would think you are as blind as old farmer Grubb. Here.”

Before Merry could protest, Pippin had scrambled onto his back, one leg on either side of Merry’s hips as he leaned over him. Merry grunted at the sudden added weight and one of Pippin’s pointy little elbows dug into his shoulder, producing a remarkably sharp burst of pain.

“Pip, what are you…” he halted mid-sentence when one of Pippin’s hands wrapped around his own that was still holding the charcoal.

“Like this, now.” Pippin’s hand guided his, sharpening the lines on the page. Merry watched at first, seeing a much clearer picture appearing but there always seemed to be something distracting him from seeing the means of it. There was the faintest touch of Pippin’s breath, sweet and warm on the back of his neck, and Pippin’s hand, still sticky with juice, cupped around his own.

Merry swallowed hard, trying not to squirm under his cousin. As many times as he and Pippin wrestled and played together, it had never quite felt like this. Pip leaned up just a bit more, his hips rocking against Merry’s backside and Merry quite abruptly forgot how to think. He hardly heard what Pippin was saying. All his focus was on the warm body pinning his own down and the ground no longer seemed a comfortable place to be, especially not in one particular place where both his and Pippin’s weight were pressing down.

Pippin dropped Merry’s hand and out of the corner of his eye, Merry saw him raise his own to his mouth, his small pink tongue wetting the tip of his littlest finger before Pip artfully smudged a few lines on the paper into shadow.

“There. Isn’t that better?”

“Better,” Merry repeated numbly and Pip laughed brightly, knocking away what little breath Merry had left as he bounded to his feet.

“Now, don’t you go being jealous just because I draw better than you,” Pippin said, winking at him before sauntering away, hands in his pockets as he whistled a cheery little tune. Not until that little song had faded completely from his hearing could Merry turn his attention to the parchment.

Pippin was a great deal better at drawing than him, Merry had to admit, turning his own nearly shapeless form into a fair portrait of the millhouse and once he might have been somewhat perturbed that Pippin had bested him.

His hand still felt warm where Pippin’s had rested and, without thinking, he brought it to his mouth and found his skin sweetly tainted with apple juice.

The Sun was starting its downward arc in the sky and most of the other hobbits had begun venturing indoors to find supper. Climbing slowly to his feet, Merry carefully rolled up the parchment and tucked it inside his shirt. Later, he would place it in the small chest he kept under his bed with all his other treasures, and every time afterward he smelled apples he would remember that afternoon, and how very warm and heavy Pippin had felt, how his eyes had been bright and his smile sweet.

But right then, all Merry wanted was a bite of supper.

-finis-


	2. Indecencies of Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set some time after the previous chapter; “We can’t keep doing this.”

* * *

“We can’t keep doing this.”

Pippin stretched luxuriously, unmindful of his state of undress as he managed to not only spill most of the blankets onto the floor but the spare pillow as well. With a scowl, Merry leaned over to retrieve them, cocooning himself in the blankets against the chilly air on his bare skin.

“And why not, may I ask?” Pippin said, swallowing a yawn and Merry rolled his eyes in exasperation. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t discussed this before, or tried to, at any rate. Pippin usually got bored with the topic and would begin a crusade to distract Merry from it. Memories of those particular distractions were almost enough for Merry to consider putting it off yet again…but, no. He’d delayed it quite long enough.

“Well, people are likely to think it’s a bit queer,” Merry pointed out. “We’re a bit old to blame this on youthful lust.”

“You are, perhaps. I’m still as fresh as a spring flower.”

“A spring chicken, rather,” Merry muttered and earned a pillow to the head for his troubles. A loud shout from the hallway outside, followed by several voices raised in laughter made Merry flinch, and he looked fearfully at the door, even though he well knew it was locked.

Pippin was staying with him at Brandy Hall as one more mouth at the dinner table was hardly to be noticed. Still, that Pippin was staying in his bedroom, which only had one bed, with no pallet made up for his cousin, simply had to be noticed eventually. Certainly just the gossip would be of interest as the topic of the week to be chatted about in Buckland.

With a loud sigh, Pippin wrapped the sheet around him, although just barely covering anything properly. Not out of any sense of modesty, Merry was certain; he doubted that Pippin had any. More like Pip knew the package looked more attractive with a bit of wrapping. He tried to ignore how very right Pippin was about that. Ever since Pip had come into his maturity, Merry had been hard pressed to ignore how very pretty he was; hardly proper for a boy but true nevertheless.

Since Pippin had taken it upon himself to start warming Merry’s sheets at night, in nothing but bare skin and a welcoming smile, well, it was nigh on impossible to ignore Pippin when he didn’t want you to.

“You care too much about what other people think,” Pippin chided him, interrupting his mental perusal of Pippin’s finer charms. “Do as you like and don’t worry about it. Uncle Bilbo always did.”

“Uncle Bilbo didn’t have his parents asking him when he was going to give them a grandchild to dandle on their knees,” Merry grumbled before he’d thought about it, and winced almost immediately, knowing very well what Pippin would think of that.

He wasn’t disappointed; Pippin guffawed, loudly, rolling onto his side as sheet slipped dangerously low, showing a hint of the pale curves hidden beneath its edge. “Is that what this is about? Tell your mum and dad that there are plenty of children about in Brandy Hall to dandle or otherwise.”

“It’s hardly the same.”

“Indeed? Well, it’s hardly like they need you to carry on the family name.”

Talking to Pippin was useless; he obviously didn’t understand. Merry rolled away from him to face the wall, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“Then you want me to leave?” Came from behind him, calm and easy, and Merry caught his breath, unable to think of what to say. He knew somehow, with great certainty, if he said yes, Pip would leave and they would never do this again. Oh, he was sure to see Pippin from time to time; they might even be quite good friends. But there would always be something between them, a distance that had never been there before…just the thought made his eyes sting and his stomach twist in a queer way.

Pip was waiting patiently, for once, and Merry reached out and took his hand, squeezing it hard as he shook his head, nearly strangling on his words before croaking, “No. Don’t leave.”

“I’ll stay as long as you want me, Merry,” said Pippin, and something in his tone made Merry turn back to him, brow furrowed as he studied the younger hobbit. Pip leaned down and kissed him, tenderly, one hand sliding over Merry’s chest and down over his belly.

Merry cried out softly, arching up into nimble fingers that were doing positively wicked things to him. Wickedly, wonderful things, so much so that when they stopped he was too shocked at first to even complain. He opened his eyes, more than a bit dazed, to see Pippin hopping out of the bed and pulling his trousers on.

“Where are you going?” Merry cried in dismay.

“Home,” replied Pippin cheerily. “My mum always told me not to overstay my welcome or I shouldn’t be asked to come again.”

Merry watched him dress in mute shock, hardly able to believe Pippin was leaving until he was at the door.

That twisty, hurtful feeling was in Merry’s stomach again, as he watched Pippin walking out his door. The door hadn’t quite shut when Pippin stuck his head back in, and smiled sweetly at him. “Come visit me next time,” Pip offered softly. “Anytime you like. I promise no one will be pestering you about grandchildren. Least of all me.” With a last wink, he vanished, closing the door behind him as Merry gaped at him with an expression usually reserved for fish.

He started laughing then, helplessly, twisting in the blankets as he finally caught his breath enough to shout, “I’ll be glad to visit you, Pippin! Just you wait!” hardly caring if Pippin heard him, or anyone else did for that matter.

With a last rueful sigh, Merry curled up in the blankets and willed his body into believing that, no, there wasn’t going to be any more games to be played that day, and instead began to consider ways of having his revenge.

-finis-


End file.
